Dungeon Desolation (The Divine Dungeon Book 4)

by Dakota Krout

  The Elf didn’t seem to mind at first; in fact, he joined Dale in the dungeon and taught him there. As he was leaving, his ire became clear. He broke Dale’s arm for making him go out of his way and then threw him over the wall of an intact Goblin fortress. Dale was pretty sure he left at that point because even though he took a nearly fatal beating from the Goblins, no help arrived. Dale’s eyes blazed with silvery Essence. Good. He didn’t want any help right now.

  He could guarantee that the Goblins would. He also knew they wouldn’t get any… at least not in time. He set the bones in his arm with a scream, then showed his teeth as the first arrow came his way. He arrogantly strolled forward, his smile growing wider by the second. Time to work.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Filthy. That was the only word Dale could use to describe himself. The blood ran off of his clothes, the flecks of skin and bone would wash away, but he stunk. How long had he been down here? A day ago, he had felt the dungeon shudder as it lifted off the ground, but he didn’t particularly care about those details. What he did care about was that his bag was nearly full of Goblins, Goblin weapons, and various items from this floor. No Cores, though. No, he wouldn’t be giving any of those away. Those were his.

  He felt a sense of exaltation, though. He had done it. He knew he had. His external aura was thick, dense, nearly choking him with power. It was complete, at least as much as he could make it at his current cultivation ranking. Now, when he made his shielding, it wasn’t a pale shadow of a real shield. His was at least as powerful as other people he had been studying. When he made a sunlight aura like Artorian had taught him, it didn’t glow. It blazed with light and life. When he made a regenerative aura, his wounds shrank at a visible rate; no longer was it a simple easing of pain.

  Dale was at D-rank nine after his extended stay in the high-Essence environment with his new cultivation technique. He would have been in the C-ranks days ago if he hadn’t bothered to devote his power to his aura. But… he had, and he would go to the abyss before he let any of his instructors tell him that he hadn’t done as they asked.

  The next step… next, Dale would work internally, trusting his armor to stop slashes and stabs. He knew from trial and error how easy it was to become concussed when struck, how easy it was to lose consciousness from a simple blow. Enhancing his brain was at the top of his priorities, but for now… Dale looked at his bag, which was now dripping with blood that even it couldn’t contain any longer. It was time to return to the surface.

  Sneaking around the Boss of this floor, Dale stepped through the portal it protected. As the shimmering field of Essence vanished, an official approached Dale with a smug expression. “Disciple Dale, you are hereby informed that your tenure at-”

  His words faltered as Dale’s fingers came within an inch of his neck, stretched out in a claw shape and glistening with infernal-laced flames. Dale’s eyes blazed with silvery light as the Essence imbuing them shone through. Dale’s posture relaxed, his hands dropping to his sides. “Sorry about that. Extended training alone in the dungeon, really gets in your head. I’m sure you understand the risk of something getting into your head, or neck, I suppose. You have ten seconds to finish speaking before I leave. Nine.”

  “Uh. You…” the man coughed, regaining his posture, “you are to report for your failure to produce your required resources to the academy. If you do not appear to the headmaster and a quartermaster within thirty minutes of getting this message, you will be dropped from the academy and sent to the frontlines of the ongoing war.”

  Dale snorted. “I lose my protection from the war at the start of the C-ranks anyway, but yeah, sure, I’ll play along. I assume they’ve already been alerted and will meet me somewhere?”

  “You are to… um… yeah, they’re going to meet you at the punishment hall.” The man nervously scratched at the spot on his neck Dale had touched with his fist.

  Dale turned and trotted away without a word. He was done being polite; he had done everything he could to be helpful, courteous, and charming in the past, and look where that had got him! Perhaps it was time to be ruthless. His foot hovered in the air, and he set it down slowly. Was this a realization that all cultivators eventually had? Was this why they all seemed to care so little for others, why they only respected power? He wanted to be different, but… his eyes hardened… but being different wasn’t working out. Maybe he had merely stumbled upon the truth.

  Walking into the punishment hall, he noted with a smirk that a large group had apparently been gathered to watch his ‘disgrace’. Headmaster Artorian was the only one in the room that seemed anxious, but the others in the area seemed pleased when they noticed him. Some people were only happy when another person was suffering, was that what this was? He planned to wipe the smirks off their faces soon. Very soon.

  “Dale, you are called here today to answer for your failure to produce results. Your contributions to the academy are nil, and unless you are able to produce a month’s worth of such goods, you will lose your discipleship immediately,” the quartermaster stated all this information dryly, neither happy nor sad about carrying out his duty.

  “I’m sorry, Dale, there’s-” Artorian was cut off as Dale reached for his bags.

  “Sure, here you go.” He upended the bag, fed it some Essence, and allowed weapons to pour out in a stream of clattering metal. As that faltered, he turned the bag, and preserved Goblin bodies began slapping wetly against the floor. A pool of blood rapidly expanded from the area the bodies were appearing, making the onlookers step away hastily. Dale turned the bag one more time, and various herbs and ores began falling onto higher ground. He wouldn’t want to get the rare herbs bloody now, would he? When the last ingot bounced off the floor, Dale put the bag back on and glared at the quartermaster. “I assume this will suffice?”

  “Plus an additional three weeks.” The quartermaster nodded, ignoring Dale’s attitude entirely. “Please ensure to get a receipt for all future deposits.”

  “This is absurd!” A student stepped forward, pointing at Dale. “He didn’t make his contributions on time! Why does he get special treatment?”

  The voice was familiar to Dale, but he couldn’t place it. Artorian’s sudden smile began to fade as the young man continued speaking. “He doesn’t deserve a place here; he has cheated his way through everything! I challenge this peasant for his position as the Headmaster’s disciple!”

  Ah, that did it. Dale snapped his fingers. “Thomas Adams.”

  “I see you remember me, you scum. Thanks to you, my family was humiliated in front of the Prince!” Thomas roared theatrically, spittle flying as his eyes bulged.

  Dale spoke over him, “If I remember correctly, it is this same attitude that got you in trouble last time. Are you sure you want to continue speaking this way to a Duke… peasant?”

  “You are no Duke!” Thomas screeched shrilly, hand grasping for a weapon.

  “I only lost my titles in the Human lands. Unlike you, I was assured of continued political allegiance by another people.” Dale drolly and intentionally got the man worked up. “If you challenge me, it will not go well for you.”

  “My challenge stands!” Thomas spat while drawing his sword from its sheath. He was obviously confident in his ability to win, being at rank C-five.

  Artorian coughed lightly. “A challenge has been issued… Dale, you do not need to accept it.”

  “Yes, show them that you are a coward!” Thomas taunted with a manic grin. “Run away; go back to herding sheep. If that is all you do with-”

  “I accept the challenge,” Dale stated calmly, vanishing from view.

  “Huh?” Thomas blinked, staring at the spot Dale had stood. He took a step forward, not trusting his eyes. A shimmer in the air caught his attention, and Dale’s fist caught him in the jaw, breaking it on the first strike. Thomas staggered backward, but Dale pressed his advantage and made a deposit at the bank of schnozz, breaking the sensitive olfactory organ with a sickening *crack*. The
ex-Noble dropped to his knees, and Dale punched him twice more, once in the face and once on the chest, to send him awkwardly splaying onto the ground.

  Dale looked around at the shocked faces, trying to make eye contact with anyone who dared. “I trust this matter is settled?”

  “Did you kill him, Dale?” Artorian softly questioned the young man standing over the fallen, bloody ex-Noble.

  “No,” Dale responded grudgingly, getting a sigh of relief from the rest of the room. Why had they bothered to ask instead of just checking him with their Essence sight? “No matter my personal dislike of this man, that is, what others generously say is a man, every single one of us is another cultivator that can stand against the necromantic horde. He will be fine and just as unpleasant as ever after a cleric takes a look at him.”

  Satisfied with this outcome, Dale turned and walked out the door. He had a clerk to find. Why was he continually having trouble with people that were supposed to be doing their job correctly and with integrity, especially the ones that collected upon other people’s hard work? Did the insignificant amount of power they had over others just naturally lend itself to enhancing their greed? Dale glanced into the collection point; happily, the person he was looking for was on duty. He waited a few minutes for the room to empty out, then stalked forward. To his surprise and fury, the clerk smirked at him.

  “I’m so sorry; this area is only for current students. Get out.” The last bit was apparently an order and also one that the man thought would be enforced magically. When Dale simply kept walking toward him, he paled and tried to run.

  Before he could take two steps, Dale was in front of the man and gripping his neck powerfully, choking the man as he lifted him off the ground. “I will make this easy for you. You owe me all of the supplies I gave you, the extra that was taken from me as a penalty, plus another week’s worth for making me go out of my way like this. You have until this weekend to make it happen, and if I find that you did it by stealing from someone else, I will make sure you never have the option to do so again.” Dale put his hand over the man’s center, made a small cut with the sharpened Mithril knuckle, and pressed his palm against the fresh wound. With a yank, Dale forcibly pulled a strand of the man’s Essence into his hand and absorbed it.

  “D-demon cultivator!” the man hoarsely choked out. Dale backhanded him, bloodying his nose.

  “Not even close, you worm.” Dale dropped him and walked away, not bothering to look back. “I’ll see you in a few days. Better get busy… unless you want to go back to being a fishy.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “What did you do to yourself?” Craig stared at Dale, eyes narrow and searching.

  Dale remained seated casually but cocked his head to the side at the question. “I’m not certain what you are talking about.”

  “Don’t take me for a fool, Dale.” Craig swallowed hard. “Are you… crushing Cores again? Do you not remember what happened last time? As far as anyone knows… it killed you. You haven’t refuted these claims, so…”

  “I’m not crushing Cores, Craig.” Dale sat up and looked into the Monk’s eyes to show his sincerity. “I have a new, intensely better cultivation technique.”

  “I’m not sure I can believe you, Dale. How do you explain your shift in attitude?” Craig’s gaze sharpened further. “You nearly killed a young man today, I’m told. That isn’t like you, Dale, but it does sound like someone who is doing things they shouldn’t be doing. Heightened aggression, anger, sudden surges in power…”

  Dale held up a hand. “I’m happy to prove it.” He shifted in his seated position and closed his eyes. For a long moment, nothing changed. Before Craig could say anything else, the Essence in the room trembled and began moving toward Dale. All of it started moving. Craig’s jaw dropped, and Dale opened his eyes in time to see the shift in his expression. The Essence stopped shifting as Dale laughed, almost falling over due to the Monk’s shock.

  “So much Essence absorption,” Craig whispered reverently. “It’s almost like… ah-ha! I see now.”

  Now it was Dale’s turn to be concerned. “What? What did you just think of?”

  “Hmm. No, he has also been in the dungeon consistently fighting… but if he hasn’t been working his body hard enough… I bet he was nearly undamaged the entire time.” Craig’s mumbling was getting on Dale’s nerves, but soon enough, the Monk looked up and explained himself. “Do you remember, a long time ago, we discussed how hard Nobles had to work themselves? How they would only cultivate a few hours a day, then work themselves physically for the remainder of the day?”

  “I remember it vaguely.” Dale swiped his hand through the air, motioning for the Monk to continue… and be quick about it.

  “There are multiple reasons for this, ranging from stabilizing the Chi… to tempering the mind. Large and sudden increases in power are known to lead to a mental shift. Arrogance stands above the other risks, but wrath and a loss of concern for life also appear. If you do not keep yourself in balance, Dale, you may become something that you once despised.” Craig waited to see if his words would reach the young man, but it seemed that Dale was already disregarding the words he was hearing. “I see. Well, let’s get to training then.”

  Craig moved faster than Dale had ever seen, lightly touching Dale in the chest. The move was deceptive, as Dale went flying across the room before slamming into the wall. The Monk cracked his neck, walking toward the fallen man. “It seems that your Elven teacher knew you were already beginning to tread this path. If this is how it needs to be, so be it. I cannot, in good conscience-”

  Dale jumped to his feet. He was surprised by the sudden attack, but for some reason, he was completely fine with it. He charged at the Monk, shifting into his combat forms and attacking as hard as he could. He knew he was out of his depth and only full power would give him a chance. Each of his thrown fists were deflected with almost contemptuous ease, and a wide kick was easily avoided. Craig slapped him in the chest again, sending Dale flying once more.

  The young man got to his feet, spitting out blood and glaring at Craig. “To the Abyss with this! I’m leaving!”

  “No. You aren’t.” Craig was now in front of the door, so Dale shifted into camouflage and tried to go around him. *Slap* Once more, Dale was airborne. He screamed in frustration, grasping at the stone around him and trying to hurl it at the Monk. The rock lurched, but then stayed in place. Right. Craig was a more powerful and experienced earth cultivator than Dale was. A gold-tinged fire appeared in his hands and he pointed his palms at Craig, only to have his hands smacked and shifted away before he could launch an attack.

  “A riddle for you, Dale.” Craig took a step back and pulled some wraps off his hands. “If you have three, you have three. Two, and you have two. If you have only one, you have none. What is it?”

  Dale ignored him, lunging for the wall, desperately trying to blast a hole through it. He failed, yet again.

  “It’s options, Dale. You leave me with only one choice, which is no choice at all. Essentially,” Craig spoke calmly as he walked forward and proceeded to beat Dale methodically, “we need to give your body and mind something to focus on, other than your cultivation, that is. Pain. Pain is a good teacher, a decent motivator, and a great limiter. Ah, using your aura to heal yourself? Good, I can be a bit more… thorough.”

  By the time Craig left off with his brutal assault and let him lay on the ground whimpering, Dale was feeling thoroughly tenderized. He had deep muscle bruises over the entirety of his body, and Craig hadn’t even spared the more sensitive areas. Something about needing to think with his main brain. Craig looked down at the quivering pile of purple meat named Dale and shook his head, “This should take some time and effort to fix, especially on your own, and as you do so… improve yourself. Start adding Essence to your body; don’t just let it build up in your Center and allow your ‘power’ to go to your head.”

  “With your cultivation technique, you could be in the C-ranks
today, if you wanted to ignore our advice. I wonder, though, how much more powerful would you be if you had the body of a C-ranker before ever even entering the new rank? How much more powerful could you become if you devoted your time in the C-ranks to only empowering your body and aura instead of needing to build it like everyone else in that rank?” Craig stood from his crouched position and walked toward the exit of the room, leaving Dale gasping in pain on the floor.

  He paused for a moment at the door to deliver a parting line, “I admit, a part of me is simply curious… but another part, the part that has spent decades studying Essence… that part is telling me that this path would bring you to heights no person has ever been able to touch. I’ll see you in two days for our normal session. Think on today’s lesson so that we won’t need to repeat it.”

  Once he was alone, Dale’s rapid breathing slowly evened out. His eyes shot open. He tried to will fury at the situation, but he was far too hurt and exhausted to do more than grumble internally. Lying on the floor, he attempted to summon the energy to move, but while he was full of Essence… his body was simply too ravaged. His muscles were strained, his tendons expertly and gently damaged. He snorted impotently, almost impressed by the damage Craig had inflicted on his body. The Monk had left him no choice but to empower his body if he ever again wanted to move normally.

  There would be no help coming; Dale was sure Craig would make this a fact. He could heal himself over time, perhaps, but… Craig’s warning and alluring words actually did give him pause. It was evident that this lesson would be repeated if Dale only healed himself, so he needed to find a better way. His eyes closed, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Fine. He had already been taught how to use his Essence in such a way as to permanently enhance his tissue, but doing so required connecting his flesh to his Center, much like building his external aura had.